Barbarism Begins at Home, Meronia Fragment 01
by abominear
Summary: Sexual content. DFAB Near. Draft.


I wanted to scream and cry, but my throat held a dull, sore pain as if all my anger and remorse were trapped inside of it, thrashing desperately at the sides.

…

Near.

His ghostly complexion, his beautiful limbs, his soft, effeminate voice. His touch was everything. He could make it all go away.

Oh, God, I needed him.

I called him.

I gave him the name of a hotel and hung up.

He met me in the lobby. We took the elevator together.

Too much time, too much waiting, too much trite nothingness. Angrier, angrier. Ready to rip my own skin off. I shut the door behind us and looked down at him and he faced me waiting to hear why we were there.

"I'm so-..." I tried to mutter through my clenched teeth, but my whole body was shaking madly with fury and consternation. But with him, I didn't need to say anything.

"Mello," His serene voice exhaled, "Come here."

Swallowing a scream, I met him halfway as he glided towards me. In that light, and in my mental perspective of him, he looked just like an angel of mercy.

He didn't have to hear me speak to know I was suffering. With his blissfully gentle touch, he curtained my hair behind my ear and ran his fingers through it. My eyes fell shut with the sedating sensation at my scalp.

"I need you," I murmured, and he knew what I meant. His fingers grazed my jawline like butterfly wings as he let me hastily unbutton his shirt.

"It's alright…" He whispered comfortingly as I kissed down his neck. His shirt slipped off of his shoulders, leaving his constricting undershirt beneath it. I kissed his collarbone as I ran my hands over his flattened breasts, tugging at the hem of his camisole to pull it up so I could feel the smooth, bare skin of his waist.

While I rushed to take his pants off, he pulled down the zipper of my vest and let me shrug it off. Gracefully, he stepped out of his underwear while I yanked my belt open.

He looked up at me with the gaze of a guardian angel as he pulled me by my hands back to the bed. He sat on the middle, unembarrassed despite wearing nothing but his thin undershirt. Unphased by the ugliness of my scar. Undisturbed by my rage.

I knelt on the bed between his legs. He beautifully held me around the chest. I whispered, "Are you sure?"

His voice perfectly angelic, he chimed, "Yes."

I couldn't wait anymore. I tipped him onto his back and pulled back my clothes and he pushed my hips gently inward with his hand on my lower back as I slipped inside of heaven.

Thank God he was already so wet. Christ, he felt so fucking good. His soft, white thighs around my hips, his lithe fingers running down my scalp, and the warm, wet cavity between his legs welcomed me home. The damp, pillowy flesh inside of him fit me like thick cashmere.

In my frustration, I could only bang out a slow pace of sudden jolts. I didn't want to enjoy it; I just wanted all the anger out of my body.

While I fucked him, he soothingly stroked my hair. He made hardly any noise, save the rare whispery gasp when I somehow hit the right spot. Completely selfless. He let me use him to take out my rage. He wanted me to do anything I needed to feel better.

"It's alright…" He ran his hands over my face, my neck, never avoiding my scar. It made me want to weep. I hid my face in his shoulder as I shook with an impending need to sob. He ran his fingers through my hair; slowly, blissfully. I could cry on him for as long as I needed to.

Soon enough, I had to come, and with whatever mental connection we had, Near knew it.

"Just let go..." He whispered with his beautiful voice, his soft fingers running lightly down the back of my neck, and again he whispered, "It's alright…"

I filled him with my release and didn't bother to make him come.

All I'd needed and more. My fury even burst from my throat as I moaned. My spine tingled and my heart fluttered at the amazing sensation coursing through my veins from orgasm. Near's petite body felt so good enveloping me like soft, glittering moonlight.

He held me protectively to his chest as I laid on top of him, angerless. With my head between his breasts, I sobered further with the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the sound of his serene heartbeat. I sensed no sign of him needing, or having any desire for me to fuck off. He wanted me there, for as long as I needed to be, and he had concern only for my peace of mind.


End file.
